


Truth or Drink: Snowbaz Edition

by flammable_grimm_pitch



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Non-Magical, Drinking Games, M/M, Roommates, Social Media, Truth or Dare, Watford Seventh Year, YouTube, idiots to lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-06
Updated: 2021-01-06
Packaged: 2021-03-16 18:48:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28586712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flammable_grimm_pitch/pseuds/flammable_grimm_pitch
Summary: Simon and Baz are filmed playing "Truth or Drink" for a Youtube series.
Relationships: Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow
Comments: 13
Kudos: 195





	Truth or Drink: Snowbaz Edition

**Author's Note:**

> This is, of course, inspired by the popular _Truth or Drink_ series by Youtube channel Cut. The concept of the game, the set-up of the scene (props and such) and the questions asked are directly from the "Truth or Drink | Roommates" episode.

“So, what, we’re just supposed to sit down and talk?” Simon asked, hanging his bomber jacket over the back of the chair. “It’s that simple?”

“It’s that simple,” the bloke behind the camera, Shepard, said with a laugh. “There’s a stack of cards in the middle there, and you and Mr. Pitch will take turns pulling questions to ask each other.”

“If he ever gets here,” Simon huffed, drumming his fingers impatiently against the tabletop. “He’s late for everything.”

“I’d hardly call this _late,_ Snow,” Baz sneered, sweeping past the cameraman. “You just insist on being ridiculously early.” If it was possible to pull a chair out from a table dramatically, that’s what Baz did, popping the buttons of his lilac suit jacket open before taking a seat across from Simon. He glanced at the selection of bottles perched on the edge of the table and picked up the one filled with a light amber liquid. “Didn’t want to admit to buying the cheap tequila?” He inquired conversationally of the cameraman, referring to the fact that the bottle had no label.

“It’s a trademark thing,” Shepard explained with a shrug. “Pretty sure it’s Jose Cuervo Gold, if that means anything to you.” Based on the sniff of contempt Baz made as he replaced the bottle, it didn’t mean much at all.

“They’re on a budget, mate,” Simon hissed. “There’s no need to be an arse about it.”

“I didn’t say anything,” Baz replied airily, earning an eye-roll from Simon. “So, shall we get to it? I’m sure everyone has better things to do than sit around and watch Snow and I snip at each other all day.”

“Right,” Shepard said, nodding. “So, as I told Simon, you’ll be playing a game called _Truth or Drink_. I’ll turn the camera on now, I’ll ask you a few questions, and then it’ll be your turn to ask each other questions. The game is simple: you can choose to answer the question, or you can take a shot.”

“Could we get some water or something, just to wash things down?” Simon asked politely. “I’m anticipating passing on a lot of these questions.”

“And why is that?” Baz asked, raising one of his sharp black brows.

“Because you’re a right git,” Simon retorted through gritted teeth, “And you’ll hardly answer the simplest of questions.”

“That’s because everything you ask is either ridiculous or unreasonable.” A set assistant scurried over bearing two glasses, one of orange juice and one of water, and set them on the table.

“Okay, camera’s rolling,” Shepard called out once she was off-screen, silencing the little spat before it could grow into anything bigger. The two men continued to glare at each other. “So could you please introduce yourselves, and tell us how you know each other?”

* * * * *

 **Baz:** I’m Basilton Grimm-Pitch. _*gestures to Simon*_

 **Simon:** I’m Simon Snow, and we’re both seventh year students at Watford.

 **Baz:** Snow and I have been roommates for all seven years.

 **Shepard, off-camera:** Great. Did you want to start out with a shot each, just to kick things off?

 **Simon:** I mean, might as well, right? Free booze is free booze.

 **Baz:** I suppose that would be fine.

\---

_Simon opens the bottle of vodka and pours himself a shot while Baz goes for whiskey. Simon holds out his shot glass, and though Baz gives him a withering glare, he clinks his glass against Simon’s before they toss their drinks back._

_\---_

**Simon:** Oof, I need a sip of that juice. _*slurps*_ Did you want to—

 **Baz:** You can start.

 **Simon:** Sure, might as well. _*draws a card*_ Okay, let’s see here…oh, Christ.

 **Baz:** Don’t be shy, Snow.

 **Simon:** _*clears throat*_ Easy for you to say. Ugh. All right, here we go. Have you ever, er…heard me, uh, masturbate?

 **Baz:** No. Either you’re extremely quiet about it, or you wait until I’m out of the room. Whichever it is, I’d prefer you keep it that way.

 **Simon:** R-right. Uh, your turn, then.

 **Baz:** _*turns to the camera*_ Do you want more chit-chat between questions, or do you just want simple answers.

 **Shepard, off-camera:** I mean…a bit of banter wouldn’t hurt? We’ll edit the video and keep all the best bits, cut out whatever doesn’t seem to fit well.

 **Baz:** Excellent. _*turns back to Simon and draws a card*_ All right, Snow. What do I do that annoys you?

 **Simon:** Bloody everything.

 **Baz:** You can’t just say everything — be specific.

 **Simon:** Well, I reckon you spend a full hour in the bathroom in the mornings, doing your hair and whatnot. And you can’t be bothered to step out for a moment to let me have a piss, even if I ask nicely.

 **Baz:** And just when have you ever asked me something nicely?

 **Simon:** Doesn’t matter. That’s my answer — takes yonks for you to get ready. My turn.

 **Baz:** Fine, go on, then.

 **Simon:** _*draws a card*_ You’ve got to be—why am I getting all the sex questions, and Baz gets easy ones?

 **Baz:** I’m the one who has to answer them. I’d argue that you’re the one getting off easy.

 **Simon:** Fine. Have you ever had sex in my bed?

 **Baz:** What a horrific thought. I certainly haven’t — who knows when the last time you washed those sheets was? Probably the start of the year.

 **Simon:** That is _not_ true. Penny reminded me to put them through the laundry a month or two ago.

 **Baz:** I rest my case.

 **Simon:** A month isn’t that long, is it? _*turns to the camera*_ How often are you meant to wash your sheets?

 **Shepard, off-camera:** Uh, let me see…Google says that every two weeks is the general rule, or every week if you sweat a lot.

 **Baz:** And you would certainly fall into the latter category.

 **Simon:** How has no one told me this?

 **Baz:** Oh, I'm sure Bunce has told you plenty of times, but you tend to ignore it because you’re too busy whinging on about how long it takes me to blow-dry my hair.

 **Simon:** Oh, piss off.

 **Baz:** My turn then? _*draws a card with a dramatic flourish*_ All right, you’ve got what you asked for, Snow — an embarrassing question. Have you ever seen me naked?

 **Simon:** What, like, completely starkers?

 **Baz:** That’s typically what people mean when they say the word 'naked', yes.

 **Simon:** …

 **Baz:** Shall I draw an easier question, or—

 **Simon:** Give me a minute, I’m trying to think. We’ve lived together a long time.

 **Baz:** Well, we generally get dressed in the bathroom, so it wouldn’t have been in our room, and you don’t play footie, so we don’t shower together.

 **Simon:** _*spluttering*_ You—what d’you mean, shower _together?_

 **Baz:** Have you never been in the men’s dressing rooms at school before, for PE?

 **Simon:** Oh. Right.

 **Baz:** What did you think, that we all just cram ourselves into some tiny shower stall and lather each other up like we’re in some low-budget gay porno?

 **Simon:** W-why would it be gay?

 **Baz:** …Because we’re all men? You do know how football works, don’t you? It’s not a co-ed sport. Why, do you have an issue with being gay?

 **Simon:** Of course not! I’m not homophobic or anything.

 **Baz:** Good.

 **Simon:** Grand, yeah. Let’s move on, shall we?

 **Baz:** Please.

 **Simon:** *draws card* Fuck, I’m gonna need to drink just to even ask this.

 **Baz:** *smirks* This ought to be good, then.

\---

_Simon pours himself a shot, drinks it, pours a second, and drinks that, too, squeezing his eyes shut and grimacing afterwards._

\---

 **Simon:** All right, that’s that. Baz, have you ever thought of me, er, sexually?

 **Baz:** Right, that tequila doesn’t look half bad, I suppose. _*takes a shot*_

 **Simon:** Wait, what? Really?

 **Baz:** I think the way this game works is that I either answer the question _or_ I drink, not both. And I’m choosing to drink.

 **Simon:** Which means you _have_ thought of me sexually. If you hadn’t, you’d just say no.

 **Baz:** Take a picture, Snow, it’ll last longer.

 **Simon:** Hey, Shepard, could you pause the video or something, just for a minute? Cheers, mate.

* * * * *

Pushing aside the empty shot glasses, Simon crossed his elbows on the tabletop and leaned closer to Baz, so that Shepard might not hear what he was saying.

“Hey, uh…I don’t mean to pry, but are you gay?” He asked, his brows knitting together curiously.

“I’d say that falls well within the category of ‘prying’,” Baz remarked, but Simon ignored his snarky attitude.

“I’m just asking because this is going on the internet, you know,” Simon reminded him, “So if you _are_ gay and you don’t want people to know, I can ask him to cut that question out. I’ll pick another one. I don’t want to out you to your family or something.”

“That’s…” Baz paused, regarding Simon cautiously. “That’s very nice of you, but not necessary. Yes, I’m gay, and yes, my family know about it. Can’t say my father is particularly pleased about it — more likely, he’s hoping I’m just “experimenting in my youth” or some rubbish like that. But it's no matter, I'm at peace with my lot in life, or as at peace with it as I'm likely to get anytime soon.”

“I’m sorry,” Simon murmured sincerely. “That sounds like a shit situation.” He reached out and set a hand over Baz’s in a gesture of comfort, just for a moment, before pulling back.

“You always have had a way with words, Snow,” Baz jeered, concealing his surprise at Simon's thoughtfulness with his signature sneer. 

“Oi, shut it, you,” Simon growled. Turning to his right, he made eye contact with the bespectacled cameraman. “Alright, Shepard, you can roll the film or…whatever it is you say for digital cameras.”

“Smooth,” Baz snorted.

* * * * *

 **Baz:** _*draws a card*_ Do you ever wish we spent more time together? Quite certain I know what you’ll have to say about that.

 **Simon:** I wish we spent less time bickering when we’re together. As much as I complain about you, I know I could have things a lot worse. You don’t leave your dirty kit lying around after games, and you keep your side of the room tidy.

 **Baz:** I can’t exactly say the same for you.

 **Simon:** Don’t be an arse while I’m complimenting you, Pitch, it’s not becoming. Like I was saying, yes, I wish we spent time together instead of just being in the same place because we’re forced to.

 **Baz:** …

 **Simon:** Cat got your tongue?

 **Baz:** Shut up.

 **Simon:** Make me. _*draws a card*_ All right, how about this one? What is your favourite thing about living with me?

 **Baz:** The knowledge that in just a few short months, I won’t have to anymore.

 **Simon:** Rude. I regret saying anything nice about you earlier, you wanker.

 **Baz:** Fine, fine, I’ll think of something. My favourite thing about living with you is…

 **Baz:** Well, I suppose it’s that we’re so accustomed to each other. We argue constantly, but when I go home to my family at holidays or for the summer, I always feel out of sorts without you snoring nearby. You leave your things strewn about everywhere, you play your music too loud, you _never_ turn the bathroom light off, and you leave the window open even in the bloody dead of winter, but…well, your absence is a hole that’s impossible to fill, Snow. 

**Simon:** I…I know what you mean.

 **Baz:** Do you?

 **Simon:** Yeah, I reckon I do.

\- - -

_Simon and Baz stare at each other for a span of ten or so seconds, not saying anything, before Simon pushes the stack of cards towards Baz. There are only a few left in the pile._

\- - -

 **Simon:** _*softly*_ S’your turn. Make it a good one.

 **Baz:** * _draws a card*_ Oh.

 **Simon:** Well?

 **Baz:** I don’t know if I…maybe I should draw a different one. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.

 **Simon:** Just read it. Can’t be worse than any of the others we have.

 **Baz:** …

 **Baz:** Kiss me or take a shot.

 **Simon:** …

 **Simon:** Think I’ve had enough to drink. Shep, turn the camera off.

* * * * *

Baz stood up from the table so quickly in his attempt to leave the room, he knocked his chair over. The wood hit the cement floor with a loud crash, but Baz wasn’t about to stick around to see whether it had broken or not. He needed to get the hell out of there.

“Baz, wait!” Simon called after him.

“I need to go,” Baz insisted, willing himself not to cry in front of Simon and the cameraman. “I’ve got plans this afternoon—”

Baz was fast, but Simon was faster, darting past him and stopping right in front of the studio’s exit so that he couldn’t get away.

“Baz, I need you to stop.”

“Get out of my way, Snow,” he snarled, his lip curling as he stood to his full height, making him three inches taller than his roommate, much to Simon’s chagrin. “Move, or I’ll make you.”

With a huff of annoyance, Simon grabbed him by the lapels and yanked him forward into a painful, sloppy mess of a kiss. There was too much lip on Baz’s part, and Simon was much too eager to do a good job of it, but despite these issues, they were both breathless by the time they broke apart.

“What the fuck was that?” Baz whispered, frowning down at Simon. He released the fistfuls of Simon’s t-shirt he had grasped onto in his attempt to not melt into a puddle on the floor.

“Well, I wasn’t going to let our first kiss be filmed and posted to YouTube,” Simon told him reasonably, “Especially with the way that just went. Imagine the comments — it’d be demonetized, there was so much tongue.”

“Could do with a bit of practice,” Baz agreed with a smile.

Simon leaned in and pressed a quick kiss to Baz’s cheek before jogging back to the table to retrieve his jacket. While Shepard was distracted with a bit of camera equipment, he snatched up the card Baz had dropped on the floor and tucked it into his pocket.

“You’re going to get an invoice in the mail in a week’s time for stolen goods,” Baz warned when Simon returned.

“Don’t care,” Simon said, taking Baz’s hand in his and lacing their fingers together. “They can charge me a hundred pounds for the silly thing — it’s worth it to me.”


End file.
